A is for apple, as if to explain

how the world will begin as

it ends, the knock of wood

against flesh, far from the tree,

withering into the distance;

A is for apple, as if to explain

the countless reapings of those

perfect red blushing fruit

as symbols of the universe

on the verge of another break,

Another break from the world;

A is for another, as if to explain

there is no other separate way

of life as we know it, save for

blasphemy and idiocy,

tearing at the walls of humanity,

lost in the minds of mad men,

walls painted white on red,

red on white, the blushed apple

peels fall to the ground scattered;

A is for apple, as if to explain

the world ends with every bite

of that red poison and the universe

shifts gears into another future

with every snap of a branch,

a branch full of ripe apples.